Blood Ties
by Kadira
Summary: DiviaJeanette, implied LaCroixNick - 'One by one people around me will be killed...' - before Divia gets to Toronto to take her revenge, she finds Jeanette.


**Disclaimer:** Characters are owned and copyrighted by Sony Pictures/Tristar Corp and were created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Spoilers:** 'The Human Factor', 'Ashes to Ashes', 'A Fate Worse Than Death' and probably a couple of other episodes.

**Blood Ties**  
by Kadira

She can't quite suppress a satisfied sigh when her teeth finally break the taut skin at the neck and warm blood floods first her mouth, then her senses. The taste of the blood is exhilarating in all its different shades, floods her with images and memories, with the very being of the vampire she shares a bed with.

Divia closes her eyes, allows herself to drown in the torrent of life and existence for a moment, of centuries of surviving, living and loving. It's the taste of her own blood. Diluted, but still hers, running through one of the children of her father, the one who betrayed his own daughter without a second thought.

This is her granddaughter, Divia reminds herself, letting her hand wander over the inviting warm body, until she feels Jeanette arching into the touch, not so silently begging for more.

Family has rarely tasted any sweeter.

The soft sounds Jeanette DuCharme utters only add to the atmosphere and feed Divia on an entirely different level. Rage washes over her at the thought that she has been robbed of such pleasure for so long. For a moment she forgets herself, sinks her teeth even deeper, sucks more furiously as she tries to forget 2000 years of abandonment, of being imprisoned by the one person on this planet she had wanted to spend eternity with.

Only Jeanette's startled groan and her struggle bring Divia back into the here and now, makes her stop for the time being.

"We shouldn't be here," Divia says while she releases the other vampire. She lies down in the offered embrace, her head on Jeanette's shoulder. Their limbs are entangled and Divia's face is half buried in Jeanette's soft, disheveled hair. The closeness feels surprisingly good and there's a quiet voice in her, expressing a faint regret at what has to be done. She silences the unwelcome voice by breathing in the scent of the darkness Jeanette radiates, in the aroma of her most recent kill, and tries to remember why they are indeed here, in this apartment, instead of being in some dark alley, with Jeanette dead on the ground.

"It was your idea," Jeanette reminds her, stroking over Divia's hair, and there is the faint timbre of a laugh in her voice. And she is right, too. Divia had approached her and then insisted, even after Jeanette had told her -- with a special blend of arrogance and darkness in her otherwise smooth voice -- that she wasn't interested in little girls who should be in bed already.

Wounded pride, Divia knows. That was what stopped her from killing the young vampire right away. And young she is. Too young and weak. Like a barely turned vampire. It intrigued Divia. She never took her father for one who would leave such a young vampire alone. But it was one of the reasons for their being here now. That, and that she still needed answers. And the darkness lurking in Jeanette.

Before Divia killed him, her master told her that she was exceptional, that most of their kind only gained such darkness after centuries of wandering through the shadows.

Not so Jeanette.

And there was something in her blood, too, memories that didn't flow in a straight timeline, but were muddled up between centuries of being a vampire, very much enjoyed so, and of being a human, equally enjoyed. In different times.

"How old are you?" Divia finally asks, still puzzled and leans up, just enough that she can look into the too bright eyes, without breaking the physical contact entirely. She blames the last 2000 years for it feeling so good. After such a long time alone, some intimacy was expected to be welcome.

For a moment, Jeanette holds her gaze, then looks away. Divia isn't sure if it is to avoid her gaze or because she's lost in some memories. After a moment, just when Divia thinks that she has to push the matter further, Jeanette answers: "That's a bit difficult to say."

"Try me."

"That depends on how you count."

She wraps a finger around one of the dark curls, pulling at it slightly until Jeanette meets her gaze again. When their eyes lock, Divia can see a shadow clouding her gaze. "How about the beginning. Most people would do that."

"1000 years and a few decades. More or less."

Divia frowns. "Don't lie to me. I don't like it when people do that. Usually they end up dead then."

Jeanette sighs and her smile can't even be seen as a halfhearted attempt. "Has nobody ever told you that threatening others isn't very polite, especially not in such a situation? And you never ask a woman how old she is. Apart from that, it was the truth."

"Don't mother me," Divia hisses, suddenly angry, and for the first time this evening she doesn't bother to hide her strength, her age, but lets it fully wash over the other vampire. "I'm much older than you could even start to imagine, certainly much too old as that I would need a mother. You on the other hand are not more than a mere baby compared to me!" she says, and she can feel her teeth itching and her perception change.

"Don't worry, I'm not the motherly type." The change in her companion is instantaneous. Divia can feel the tension that goes through Jeanette's body, can feel how the beast in the other vampire takes over, _sees_ the change. Survival. That's all they are about in the end. Survival and passion. Divia has perfected that game and Jeanette won't be a match for her. But she doesn't want to kill her. Not yet. First she needs answers and she won't let her hard work go to waste before she gets them. Jeanette struggles under her, tries to throw her off. It's to no avail of course, because Divia is stronger, no matter how it might look.

It doesn't take long until the struggle is decided in Divia's favor and Jeanette lies under her, seething, but motionless.

Survival.

"Who are you?" Jeanette demands, voice something between a hiss and a growl and Divia notes that there doesn't seem to be any fear. It's intriguing, seeing how other vampires keep cowering in front of her as soon as they feel just a fraction of her power. Not so her granddaughter and a part of Divia is proud of her, because despite her plan, it is her blood that runs through Jeanette.

"Family," she just says and lets her lips hover over Jeanette's. Not quite touching, merely breathing in the heat Jeanette radiates, bathing in it. It is intoxicating, more than anything else they did so far and obviously she isn't the only one who feels that way, because suddenly Jeanette's arms are around her. She pulls Divia down and their lips crash together.

The kiss and the caresses that follow have nothing of the tenderness of before, but are an outside reflection of their heated emotions, of their combined darkness. Divia feels like drowning in it, like losing herself completely in the mix of raw emotions that has taken possession over them and directs their every move. Divia leans into the hands that wander over her body and her fingers burry themselves in the thick, dark hair as Jeanette kisses and nips her way down her body, setting her nerves on fire, making her itch for _more_.

Divia leans into the lips and teeth that scrap over her skin, into the hands that know exactly where to touch her and feel just perfect, in the closeness that makes her moan and groan and which makes her temporarily even forget about her revenge and her carefully constructed plan. Blissful oblivion and Divia thinks she could almost die happily now.

When sharp teeth sink into her thigh, relief comes so unexpected that she can't suppress the stifled scream. As Divia's world explodes in shades of red, she is laid bare, completely vulnerable for the split of a moment that could be half an eternity. In that fraction she is unable to hide anything, stripped bare in a way she has felt only one time before, when her life changed for good.

It's torture and pleasure at once and doesn't last nearly long enough.

For a moment longer Divia keeps her eyes closed, tries to ignore the stunned gaze that is fixed on her, not quite ready yet to give up the temporary peace she feels and to move on to the next step, to what has been her original plan, before she had been distracted.

"It can't be," Divia hears Jeanette whispering, voice rough and shocked and more than just a little bit confused. "Are you really his... daughter? LaCroix's?"

Divia smiles then almost happily. "His daughter and his maker. Without me, he would have drowned in the ashes of Pompeii. I take it he never mentioned me?" She opens her eyes and even somehow convinces her body that moving isn't just an option but a requirement.

Jeanette stares at her, eyes wide and if any possible even brighter than before, her gaze mirroring the surprise Divia has heard already in her voice. Yet, there is still no sign that Jeanette is aware of the danger she's in, that she sees the immediate death that has been hovering over her for the last few hours already and is now slowly closing in. "I'm not surprised. He tried to kill me, you know?" Divia tells Jeanette pleasantly while she sits up and shifts until she is right in front of her granddaughter. "After I saved him from certain death and gave him eternity, he killed me just two decades later. Can you imagine how that feels?"

"You survived," Jeanette brings out and there is something in her voice that isn't quite amazement and not really fear either, but rather a mix of that and countless other possible emotions.

"I'm over 2000 years old, created by one of the first vampires to walk Earth. I'm not that easily killed. And revenge is a very helpful companion and motivation when you are imprisoned for so long. It keeps you going," Divia explains with a grim grin. When Jeanette reaches out with one hand, not quite touching her cheek, almost as if wanting to make sure that Divia is indeed here and not just a figment of her imagination, it turns into a smile.

"What have you planned to do now?" Jeanette asks, voice shaking ever so slightly.

"Revenge. Just as he deserves."

"You want to kill him?" Now there is real shock in Jeanette's voice and Divia discovers that she doesn't particularly like it.

"I would have every right, wouldn't I? Can you imagine how it feels to be killed and then abandoned by your own father? For such a long time?" Divia asks. "No, of course not. You are much too young. But that reminds me that it is on me to get some answers now," she says.

Jeanette doesn't stand a chance. Before she can react in any way, Divia has already moved forward and attacks her. By the time Jeanette tries to struggle, Divia's teeth are already firmly attached to her granddaughter's neck, drinking deeply. Unlike before, this has nothing to do with lust or passion but serves merely to extract information -- and to do damage, maybe -- and so Divia doesn't just drink the blood, but focuses on the rest, on the memories and everything else that defines Jeanette and her life.

She sees France. Not the one of today, but of a far away past. She feels Jeanette's disgust and her struggle as those men approach her and try to take her by force.

And then she sees _him_, her father, the knight in the shining armor, killing one of the men, drinking him dry, then seducing her, bringing her across. She can feel the pleasure and relief of her granddaughter's first kill, when she takes her revenge, can feel Jeanette's gratefulness.

Divia can't decide if her anger or her pity are stronger, so she just keeps drinking, absorbs the centuries she was never allowed to experience, while Lucius and Jeanette discovered the world.

And then there are not just the two of them anymore, but three. Again in Paris, but later. Another mortal, this time a young crusader, Nicholas de Brabant, who falls for Jeanette's charm and in the end is brought across by her father. Through the blood Divia can feel Jeanette's elation, can feel their happiness, can see her father, the great general who has rejected his own _daughter_, bedding the golden son.

His favorite, she realizes almost immediately, can feel it through Jeanette as the images shift repeatedly, and love, happiness and admiration turn into anger and disappointment, resulting in fights and the inability to live together.

She ignores the hand on her shoulder that tries to push her away. The action is stronger than she would have thought possible after she took so much from the other vampire already, but it is still ineffective, of course.

She drinks slower when she reaches the present, Toronto, she realizes and tries to memorize every detail. The club that Jeanette seemed to have owned at some point, Lucius, now obviously the new owner, the vampires around him, especially those close to him, like the dancer and the golden boy, her father's favorite, Him especially. Divia learns everything about him Jeanette's blood can tell her, even as she feels her rage rise.

Then suddenly -

- the end. No more images about her father or his favorite, just Jeanette, moving from place to place before finally settling down in Montreal, falling in love -- Divia snarls -- with a mortal of all things. So weak. Almost like her grandson. A disgrace to her bloodline!

The images shift again, become less clear, more tangled, like that of mortals who are unable to keep even the few short years of their own lifetime straight. There is pain and despair and a thirst for revenge, not unlike her own now. And fear, not entirely unknown to Divia either, though she would never admit it, of course.

The memories bring her back to Toronto, and then Divia realizes what happened, can almost_sense_ how it feels to be mortal again, to be limited in almost every aspect. But while just the mere thought gives her shivers, she can feel that Jeanette enjoyed it. Certainly enough to die for it.

Divia frowns as she gets to see the last pieces of the puzzle and can tie everything together - the strange timeline, the muddled pictures, Jeanette's statement about her age, her darkness.

For a moment Divia still holds on, tries to ease her surprise by just taking some more blood while blocking out the images. She has seen enough. More than she had bargained for, more than she ever wanted to know.

"You are not his daughter," she says eventually, more to herself than Jeanette, as she withdraws, her mind still filled with images and memories, most of them much older than Jeanette currently is. The revelation throws her out of the loop, doesn't fit into her carefully constructed plan.

Divia holds Jeanette close, absently stroking over her hair. Then, releases her -- with a reluctance that surprises her maybe the most -- when Jeanette struggles to sit up.

"He brought me across. The fist time. So he was my father," Jeanette clarifies, voice firm if slightly hoarse.

"Be glad that he isn't your father now. Otherwise I would have to kill you. As it is, there's no sense in it if he can't feel your pain, or at the very least see your death."

"Thank you ever so much," Jeanette says and straightens up. And not even now can Divia detect even a hint of fear in her voice. "That was not quite how I imagined my evening to go," she says, voice clip. No, definitely not afraid, rather angry.

"Let me make it up to you," Divia says and she can't say just where this suddenly impulse comes from.

"I don't think so," Jeanette says and stands up, tries to smooth down her hair at the same time. "You gave me more than enough already." She is a bit unsteady on her feet, which isn't much of a surprise after the immense blood loss she suffered at Divia's hands, but still manages to gather her clothes. She looks stunningly beautiful in the dying light of the candles they have scattered around the room.

Jeanette doesn't bother with clothing herself first, just takes everything and makes move to go. She has barely reached the door, when Divia is behind her. She wraps an arm around her granddaughter, pressing their bare bodies together. "But I insist," she says, then chuckles when she feels the shiver that runs through Jeanette. "Don't be afraid, my dear great-granddaughter. You'll enjoy this. And my gift, too. In time. I will make you stronger, release you from your bond to your master. Wouldn't you like that?" she says, voice no more than a whisper against Jeanette's ear.

She doesn't wait for an answer, but sinks her teeth into Jeanette's neck – again, even if this time neither with the intention to kill, nor to harm.

Carefully, Divia untangles herself from the still recovering vampire. Not quite newborn, but still close enough. Maybe it could be considered a rebirth. Again. But she's pretty sure that this will be the last time for Jeanette.

Divia lets her hand wander over a pale cheek, then over Jeanette's back, marveling at the newly formed bond between them, which she can feel pulsing within her. She just hopes that it effectively cut the old one. But even if not, her grandson would be dead soon enough, which would take care of it then.

Now it is her blood that runs through Jeanette, no longer diluted, but clear and strong. Divia likes the image. And it is for the best, too, she decides. Like her father, she can appreciate strength and Jeanette has plenty of that. Very soon she would have even more. Certainly more as if she would have lived centuries with the blood of one soon-to-be dead Nicholas de Brabant.

She smiles as Jeanette begins to stir under her touch. Strength and beauty. And it is all Divia's.

Grandmother - Lover - Mother. Not too bad for one night, Divia thinks and her smile grows. Yes, she is sure it was the right decision, even if it was rather impulsive.

"What have you done?" Jeanette brings out, voice blurry, trying to focus her gaze on Divia. Her French accent is stronger than any time before this evening. Divia likes how it sounds.

"I freed you," Divia simply says. "I like you, so I replaced your blood and made you stronger than you could ever imagine to be."

"What?" Jeanette struggles, tries to sit up. But like a newborn vampire, she isn't up to the task yet.

Divia embraces her, bathes once more in the unplanned closeness, then kisses her, gently. "You'll understand soon enough. Just give it a bit. I need to go now, but I'll be back before you will even have completely recovered. You'll be safe here."

"Where are you going?" Jeanette asks, and there is clear alarm in her voice.

"You know it. I'm going to Toronto. Visiting your former master and my son. It's on time to settle some family matters," she says, grimly. "You want me to tell him something? Or maybe rather Nicholas? Before I kill him?"

"No!" Jeanette says and tries once more to get up. Without success of course, but it is a determination Divia can admire.

"I will be back and then we can continue right were we stopped," Divia tells her and bows her head to kiss Jeanette a last time, marveling once more at the softness of her lips. "I'd take you with me, but I can't allow you to interfere. This is my game and I need to do that. But I'll be back soon. Maybe even with a companion. I'm almost sure Lucius won't be able to resist the temptation to join us. Just be a good girl and wait for me here. Maybe you should sleep a bit, so that we can get started right away once I'm back," she tells her. "After all, there's a whole new world out there I need to discover."

And with that Divia takes off, leaves her new daughter behind to struggle with her new and old powers, with a strength she first needs to learn before she can use it. As she flies north, away from the sun, she wonders if she should tell her father about his new sibling, if it might persuade him to see the error of his ways and join them.

Maybe. But first she would need to get rid off Nicholas. He is the biggest obstacle, so he has to die. Between his death and the trouble Divia has planned to cause her errant father, he would be only too grateful to have a safe place to return to once Divia would be done with him, once she destroyed his world as certainly as he had destroyed hers so very long ago. And then they could start anew. The three of them. The world would be theirs and it would be beautiful. Of that Divia has no doubt.

**-.-.-.-.-**


End file.
